


It was always you

by nflove



Category: Men's Basketball RPF
Genre: Getting Together, Hook-Up, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-03 16:42:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19467973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nflove/pseuds/nflove
Summary: Steph and Klay can't see the freaking signs.





	It was always you

**Author's Note:**

> Different universe than my other Steph/Klay stuff. I'm trying to write longer stuff, so this is my attempt. I'd love any comments/feedback!

It began in Klay’s second season with the Warriors. He’d always thought Steph was nice to look at, but didn’t think much more of it. Sure, he’d steal glances from across the court, but nothing lingering. They were teammates, friends – not best friends - but Klay was good with that. 

One night after a messy win in New Orleans, Klay had agreed to go clubbing with some of the guys. Harrison had a contact at a casual spot for high profile celebrities. It was nice not to be stared at sometimes, to be able to disappear into the crowd. 

Klay spent the first half of the night congregating by the bar with Harrison and Draymond. Harrison had always taken the rookies under his wing and shown them the ropes. He was relaxed, thoughtful, talented but not arrogant, a good guy to play beside. 

Harrison was joking about some of old rookie hazing he’d had to go through. After a few minutes, Steph sauntered over swinging an arm around Harrison and another around Klay, inserting himself into the conversation. 

“Who wants to dance?” he asked with a smirk.

“I’ll go.” Klay shrugged putting down his drink.

As they wandered over to the dance floor, he could smell the alcohol on Steph’s breath. Steph’s face was flushed, his eyelids a little heavier than usual, an easy smile plastered onto his face. The first few songs were rap songs and Klay laughed as Steph exaggeratedly enacted the lyrics. Then the “Dancing in the Moonlight” began to play and Steph took a step closer to Klay. As the chorus began, Steph started to grind against Klay. At first, Klay was caught off guard, but he soon decided there was nothing wrong with having a little fun with his teammates. He went along with it, dancing close as Steph sang loudly into his face. Steph had hands on his back, gripping his shirt tightly and suddenly Steph’s mouth was on his, moving fast and hard. Steph’s tongue slipped into Klay’s mouth, hungry. Klay could taste the bitterness of tequila, but there was something sweet about it on Steph, something that prevented him from pulling away. But suddenly, he registered the consequences of his actions, putting a hand between them, gripping Steph’s shirt and dragging them away from the fluorescent club lights and into a dark corner. 

“Steph. What the hell?”

Steph leaned in trying to kiss him again. Klay turned his head to the side as Steph slumped onto him, head rolling onto Klay’s shoulder. 

“Okay, we gotta get you back to the hotel.” Klay said.

He wrapped Steph’s arm around his shoulders, said some brief goodbyes to the other guys before guiding Steph out of the club and onto the dimly lit street. The noise of the club faded into the background as he called an Uber on his phone. 

When they reached the hotel, Klay led Steph through the lobby and onto the team floor. “You have your key card?” he asked gently.

“Yeah, Steph said fumbling around in his pocket for a bit before producing the hotel card.

Klay swiped them into Steph’s room and let Steph sprawl out on the bed. Klay took a seat on the opposite bed and talked to Steph slowly as the alcohol started to wear off. Steph’s lips were swollen, his eyes glassy, a foolish smile still lurking on his face as he gazed over at Klay, sitting patiently on the other hotel bed. 

“Fuck me, Klay.”

Klay almost choked on his own saliva.

“Steph, I don’t wa – you’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk.”

“Yeah….you are.”

“Jus… come on.” Steph said, grabbing Klay’s hand and pulling him down onto the bed. And looking at him like that, inches away, at his fingertips for the taking, Klay was overcome. Hey, if Steph wanted this…. Klay shoved the guilt into a tiny box in his brain and fucked Stephen Curry.

***

In the next few weeks they didn’t discuss it. It wasn’t awkward between them, but it seemed mutually acknowledged that they would pretend this had not happened. At one point, Klay wondered if Steph even remembered it had happened. He hadn’t seemed _that_ drunk…but somehow either possibility was painful to imagine. 

It wasn’t until a few weeks later that Klay got his confirmation. They were coming off a nasty loss at home against the Clippers and Steph had been off his game. He’d been missing screens and bricking threes that he’d normally hit with his eyes closed. After the game, Klay approached Steph in the locker room. 

“You doing okay, man?”

“Come home with me?” Steph asked.

“Oh.” So he knew. “Yeah.”

They drove over to Steph’s house together, and when they pulled into the driveway, Steph asked matter-of-factly “Can I fuck you Klay?”

Steph needed to get off, and getting fucked by Steph Curry was a small price to pay for his point guard’s performance. 

They didn’t kiss much, but damn was it good having Steph inside him and around him and close to him. Soon, the hookups became routine. When Steph was feeling off or couldn’t sleep, he’d text Klay, and Klay would always be there, consistent, reliable, just like on the court. They got comfortable with it; sometimes even Klay would be the one texting “you up?” at 3am after an ugly road game. The sex became more transactional, a favor between friends, the kisses fewer and further apart.

It was nice being fuckbuddies, having someone on the team who went just a little further for you. But soon feelings caught up to Klay. They had always been there lingering beneath the surface, just quiet enough to be suppressed. But now, little things would set them off. Steph’s arm around his shoulder after a tiring game, a celebratory dance in the locker room, even a small smile could send his heart soaring.

Once, they had done it at Klay’s house. Steph came in Klay’s sheets and fell asleep beside him. In the morning Steph had said thanks and gathered his things before returning to his own house. Klay had lied in bed for hours, hugging the sheets to his chest, wishing he could will things into existence, instill meaning into things that didn’t matter to anybody, get the right words out of his mouth at the right times, but here he was just an NBA All-Star, fighting back tears as he buried his face in the pillow that still smelled of his best friend.

Another time, they had gone to bed together in a hotel on the road. Steph had fallen asleep first and Klay had stayed up looking at him, wanting to trace the soft curve of his nose, wanting to lie infinitely close so he could feel the soft flutter of Steph’s eyelashes, wanting Steph’s hands gentle on his own face. Instead he stayed on his side of the bed, separated by biggest three-foot gap in the world. He closed his eyes, praying sleep would rescue him, shifting his position to face away from Steph, and whispering into the darkness a soft “I love you”.

Months of this became years and Klay began to hate himself for agreeing each time, for deepening the wound that already hurt like hell, but who was he to deny Stephen Curry. And maybe the pain was worth it for the occasional rough kiss he’d manage to steal.

***

A few years flashed by as Klay tried in vain to distance himself. It was always Steph, surfacing in his dreams, resurfacing in his text messages. The Warriors had flown into Denver the previous night for a late season game against the Nuggets. Klay rolled over as his alarm screeched, pulling him out of his sleep. He rubbed his eyes, reaching over to check his phone. His heart began to race when he saw that he had hundreds of texts. They were mostly from teammates, but none from Steph. He clicked on one from Andre, linking him to an ESPN article titled “Warrior’s Star Stephen Curry tests positive for Performance Enhancing Drugs.” _Shit._ Articles and tweets swarmed the internet denouncing Steph: “golden boy screwed up big time”, “of course that little fucker can’t be sinking those 3s”, “#fake_ass_splash.”

He scrolled through some of the texts from his teammates. They mostly supportive, a few uncertain. Coach Kerr had informed them all not to speak to the press on the issue. Klay switched off his phone and closed his eyes to digest the situation.

***

Steph had been suspended for the game, but he was still there on the bench with them. Throughout the pregame warmups, Klay half expected a “meet me in the closet” text. When none came, he decided that Steph deserved space. Maybe this kind of stress was one that Klay couldn’t help with. And he should be okay with that, so why couldn’t he get it out of his damn head? 

Throughout the game, Klay concentrated on the plays, formations, anything to keep his eyes from landing on Steph – Steph who sat silently on the bench in his street clothes, hands in front of his face, pressed together as if in prayer as the cameras clicked around him, sending instantaneous flashes of light across his wary eyes.

After the game, the locker room was quiet. Nobody stayed to joke around; everyone went straight back to the hotel. As Klay lay in bed that night, he got a text from Iggy: “meet me in the lobby.”

He got up, but on some slides, and dragged himself sleepily downstairs. When he got there, he saw Iggy in the corner lounge area and took a seat beside him. 

“What’s up Andre?”

“Have you talked to Steph yet?”

“Uh… no.”

“’Cause I think you should.”

“I just…” Klay said sighing, “I think he woulda asked me if he wanted.”

“Well, I tried to talk to him before the game, just to let him know I don’t think he’s guilty and all, but you could tell he’s feeling like shit. It’s gotta hurt having the media ripping at you like that. I know a couple of the guys went up to him, KD saw him before the game…he don’t wanna talk to nobody.”

“And that’s why I should talk to him.” Klay said dryly.

“Nah, I mean …you’re different with him.”

Klay tightened his jaw, suddenly on edge. “What do you mean?”

“You just get him.”

“Okay, fine. I will.”

“Thanks, man.”

  
***  
Klay knocked on the door to Steph’s room.

“It’s open.” Came a weak voice from inside.

Klay opened the door quietly to find a beaten looking Steph lying on the bed, above the comforters. His eyes were reddish, with heavy lines underneath them. He was wearing his full Warrior’s uniform. Something about seeing him in those clothes hit Klay hard – Steph’s feeble attempt at reclaiming ownership of what had been stolen from him – the right to wear that blue and yellow with honor. This team was a part of him as much as he was a part of this team.

“Hey.” Klay said, quietly closing the door.

“I didn’t do it.” Steph said with a startling sense of urgency.

“I know.”

“Then why the fuck – how? I just don’t get - ”

Klay took a seat on the bed beside Steph. He leaned back against the headboard and placed a light hand on Steph’s chest. If only he knew how little that did to calm Steph’s beating heart.

“I don’t know. Weird shit can trigger it, like…normal medicines or vitamins…They’ll retest or do a deeper analysis, I bet.” Suddenly, he realized he was rubbing his hand across Steph’s chest. Fearing he would let himself slip past the acceptable level of tenderness, he froze. Steph probably just needed another hookup. “D’you wanna fuck?” 

Steph dragged a hand across his face. “I can’t handle this anymore.”

“Agh, shit,” Klay said getting up. “I shouldn’t have come here with you like this. The guys told me – “

“They made you come?”

“No – well, no I wanted to, it’s just too…you don’t want me to fuck you?”  
“I…” Steph trailed off.

“It’s fine, honestly I can’t handle it either…”

“No, no, no. I _do_ want you…to…I just want you to do…more.”

Klay’s heart inflated with hope. “More?”

“I know, you already do too much for me and I always want...”

“Oh Steph… _let_ me.” _Let me do everything to you and for you, let me take you apart and put you back together again, let me love you._

Klay slid on top of Steph, leaning in and kissing him like nothing else in the world mattered. Klay slid his hands under Steph’s jersey, rubbing his sides and gently slipping Steph’s jersey over his head.

He dipped his head down, pressing soft kisses to Steph’s stomach and moving gradually up to his chest. He took Steph’s arms and spread them out across the bed, running his fingers lightly down to his wrists, sending a chill down Steph’s spine. Klay kissed along Steph’s neck, along his collarbones, in the hollow of his throat. 

“You’re so good for me Klay.”

“You got no idea how good _you_ are.”

His hands settled on Steph’s hips, slipping slightly beneath the waistband of his shorts. He looked up for affirmation like it was their first time, because in a way, it was. Steph nodded, impossibly earnest and Klay slid his shorts smoothly onto the floor.

And there he was, confronted by Steph, bare, beautiful, transcendent Steph who he had fucked a hundred times, but never before like this. It was intimidating almost, stirring some raw, fundamental presence deep inside of Klay’s soul. He took Steph’s dick in his mouth, eliciting a small moan from Steph. Holding Steph in place, he worked his lips carefully as Steph whimpered, “Klay, Klay.”

“I got you.” Klay said, taking Steph’s hands in his own and squeezing hard as Steph came in his mouth.

Klay lifted his head, to look at Steph’s face. His eyes were tired, but glimmering. “You good baby?” he asked rubbing Steph’s thigh. 

“Yeah” Steph sighed. “Thank you.”

“’S not a favor. It’s…” Klay said, putting a fist to his heart, “what I want.”

Steph nodded - almost imperceptible, like his reality and his fantasies couldn’t possibly be converging.

Klay crawled up and settled on top of Steph, arms wrapped tightly around him, head tucked into Steph’s shoulder.

Steph pressed a light kiss to Klay’s forehead. “I always wanted you like this.”


End file.
